


Talk About It

by taxicab12



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Truly terrible communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxicab12/pseuds/taxicab12
Summary: Buck isn’t sure there’s a term for sleeping with a guy once and then eating cookies with his son in his grandmother’s kitchen. It seems to be a niche sort of problem, because the closest word he can come up with to fit his situation is fucked.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 505





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day! Can anyone guess my new obsession?

They don’t talk about it.

It’s not that there’s nothing to talk about; there’s a thousand things they could say, but don’t.

Buck moves for the shower without a word.

It seems like the last hour should have transformed this house into the house of a stranger, but for some reason Buck still knows how to work the shower he’s used half a dozen times before. 

He wants to stand there under the hot water for an hour, or maybe forever, but he doesn’t, moving quickly and methodically. He rubs himself with a towel then pulls his clothes back on, not bothering to let himself fully dry. He hesitates for a long moment with his hand on the doorknob.

Eddie’s on the phone when he returns to the bedroom, smiling as he speaks. The smile fades when he sees Buck enter.

“Just make sure you don’t stay up too late,” Eddie says, pausing, then laughing. “Okay, kid, I love you. Goodnight.” He puts the phone down.

Buck doesn’t know what to say.

“Buck,” Eddie says. “Hey.”

“How’s the sleepover?” He asks, gesturing towards Eddie’s phone.

He glances down at the phone before responding. “Good. It’s good. He sounds about to crash.”

Buck nods.

“I should—“ Eddie begins, cutting himself off with a nod towards the bathroom.

Buck moves out of his way.

He listens to the shower turning on and stands there about thirty more seconds before pulling on his shoes and moving for the door. The idea of staying, of having to talk about it, is becoming less acceptable by the second. He has never been the kind of guy who needs to stay the night anyway, at least, not before Abby.

There’s a text from Eddie waiting for him by the time he gets home. He almost doesn’t open it, but curiosity gets the best of him.

_ You forgot your wallet. _

Buck pats his pockets with a sigh. It isn’t the first time he’s left something at Eddie’s and it won’t be the last, but this time feels different,  _ is _ different.

 _ Thanks_, Buck texts back,  _ I’ll grab it tomorrow. _

For a moment, his phone says that Eddie is typing, but it disappears without a new message.

Buck goes to bed. He’s not exactly tired— in fact, he’s wide awake— but he doesn’t know what else to do.

He watches the hours tick by, the night turning to early morning, before he finally drifts into sleep.

...

Buck has his phone to his ear before he’s fully awake, not entirely sure who’s on the other end.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters.

Buck is awake suddenly, instantly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I was running some errands and I got caught behind a pileup on the freeway. I’m already late to get Chris, is there anyway you could—“

“I’ve got him.” Buck is on his feet in half an instant, keeping the phone to his ear as he gets dressed.

“Just bring him to my abuela’s,” Eddie says. “Thank you.”

“I’d never miss an opportunity to hang out with my best friend,” Buck says. It’s meant as a joke, but it falls flat.

“Well, thank you,” Eddie says, then swears again. “I might be awhile.”

The line is silent for a moment. Buck hangs up.

...

It’s not exactly a one night stand if you’re the one to pick the guy’s kid up from a sleepover the next day. Buck knows this, and yet tries not to think about it, tries to act as if nothing has changed.

In some ways, nothing has.

“Buck!” Christopher calls as he makes his way to the car, smiling all the way. “Where’s daddy?”

“He got caught in traffic, bud.” Buck smiles at him and at the mother waiting beside him. “Sorry I’m so late to get him.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” the woman says. “Chris is a delight.”

“We stayed up all night!” Christopher says, as Buck helps him into the car.

The mother laughs, shaking her head a little. “Would you tell Eddie that he got a bit of a stain on his pajamas?”

“Will do,” Buck smiles.

Everything about this is the same. Nothing has changed.

Buck only wishes he could believe that.

...

Buck isn’t sure there’s a term for sleeping with a guy once and then eating cookies with his son in his grandmother’s kitchen. It seems to be a niche sort of problem, because the closest word he can come up with to fit his situation is  _ fucked_.

“—and then we had a  _ ton _ of cake,” Christopher is saying, holding his arms as far apart as they’ll go. “And Johnny gave me the second biggest slice  _ and _ we had soda.”

Isabel shakes her head, as if scolding him. “With all that sugar, it’s a miracle you slept at all.”

A car door slamming outside interrupts any potential response.

“Daddy!” Christopher hops up, moving for the door, just as Eddie steps inside.

Eddie scoops him up with a smile. “Hey, bud! How was Johnny’s party?”

“It was awesome!” Christopher says, restarting his play-by-play of the night.

Eddie looks away from him for only an instant, making eye contact with Buck.

They don’t say anything.

...

For the first few hours, the firehouse seems free of this tension, a place where the outside world can’t affect anything.

Then Hen sits beside him. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” He asks, with no intention of telling her the truth.

“You’ve been real quiet all day,” she says. “It’s a little disconcerting.”

“Sorry.” Buck laughs softly. “Just in my own head, I guess.”

“Well, if you want to talk about it...?” Hen puts a hand on his shoulder as she stands.

“Thanks,” he says, and means it.

Only the alarm pulls him from his thoughts.

...

Eddie is waiting for him outside his apartment, leaned back against the hallway wall in utter calm.

Buck’s heart is beating so loud, it’s a miracle Eddie can’t hear it.

“Hey,” Eddie says.

“Hey,” Buck unlocks the door, letting Eddie follow him inside. “Want a beer?”

“No,” he says, sitting at the table. “Not tonight.”

Buck can’t bring himself to sit, so he leans back against the fridge. “What’s up?”

“We can’t keep doing this,” he says, finally looking up at him.

“Doing what?”

“Not talking.” Eddie shakes his head. “We’ve hardly talked since, you know. That’s not what I want.”

“I...” Buck stares at the ground. “I didn’t want to be this guy anymore. I just... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“What guy?”

“Y’know,” Buck sighs. “Buck 1.0. One night stand Buck. The guy that never had to talk about his feelings.”

“So don’t be.” Eddie shrugs, as if it’s that simple.

“Well, it’s a little late for that.”

“Is it?”

Buck laughs. “Well, I can’t exactly un-sleep with you.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s true. Not the only way to prevent a one night stand, though.”

Buck’s smile fades. “Oh.”

“Let me take you out to dinner,” he says. “We can talk about it.”

After a few days of not talking about it, even the offer feel like a weight off his shoulders.

“I’d like that,” he says.

Eddie stands, holds out a hand.

Buck takes it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d never miss an opportunity to hang out with my best friend,” Buck says, this time letting the awkwardness seep in.
> 
> Eddie tries not to think too hard about that, tries not to be jealous of his best friend referring to his son as his best friend. It‘s stupid to even have to think about it.
> 
> “Well, thank you,” he says, swearing. “I might be awhile.”

He contemplates drowning himself in the shower, just for a moment.

It’s not that he doesn’t want this, not that he doesn’t want to see Buck or talk to him or kiss him. It’s just that the first conversation, the one they’re going to have to have when Eddie gets out of the shower, is going to be the most awkward of his life.

He tries not to take too long, following Buck’s suit and getting dressed rather than stepping out in his towel, but it does him no good.

There’s no one in the bedroom.

“Buck?”

The house is quiet. Buck’s shoes no longer sit beside the bedroom door.

Eddie sighs, falling back on his bed. As much as he doesn’t want to have this conversation, dragging it out is worse.

He reaches for his phone, but pauses, not knowing what to say, how to begin.

He sits there for a long moment, until he notices Buck’s wallet still sitting on his dresser.

He hesitates another moment before typing,  _ you forgot your wallet. _

For several long minutes, there is no answer and Eddie is sure that he’s going to have to go back into the shower to drown himself, hating that that was the only thing he was brave enough to say.

_ Thanks_, Buck finally texts back,  _ I’ll grab it tomorrow. _

It’s better than nothing, Eddie tells himself. At least Buck isn’t ignoring him. At least they’re still friends, if nothing else. At least.

_ Are we going to talk about this?  _ Eddie types and then deletes.  _ I don’t want to lose you. _

He deletes that too, then throws his phone on the floor, climbs into bed and pulls the covers over his head, as if hiding his embarrassment from the world.

He feels eight years old again, but now there’s no one to coax him out from under the blankets and insist that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

He sleeps fitfully like that.

...

He’s up early, unable to stay in that bed any longer. He does the dishes, then vacuums, pausing for the first time when he moves to do laundry and realizes that he did laundry yesterday.

He retrieves his phone from where he had left it the night before, hesitating a moment before checking it.

Nothing. It shouldn’t be surprising, but it is.

He makes a call, puts the phone to his ear. “Abuela, I was going to get some things from the store. Yes. Yeah. Do you need groceries? Yes. Okay.”

...

After the grocery store, he mows his abuela’s lawn and begins to do  _ her _ dishes, before being shooed out of the kitchen.

“What is going on with you?” She shakes her head with a laugh. “It’s your day off, go enjoy yourself.”

“I have to get Chris in a couple hours,” he says. “Just trying to... keep busy.”

“Relax, Eddie.” She puts hand on his shoulder. “You deserve it.”

He leans down to kiss her cheek. “You’re right, of course, abuela. I’ll see you later.”

He goes out to his truck, resisting the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel. He turns the car on, watching the change engine light turn on as it had the last dozen times he’s driven it. At least it‘s something more to do.

...

The flaw in his logic is, of course, that taking his truck to get an oil change means sitting in a waiting room, alone with his thoughts.

Physically, there are other people there, which is probably why it takes an hour just for an oil change, but in every other sense, it is the loneliest he’s been in a long time.

It’s a miracle he doesn’t start climbing the walls: or worse, start texting Buck.

He checks his phone for the millionth time as he walks to his truck. There’s nothing there, so he shoves it in his back pocket.

Five steps later, he stops in his tracks and pulls his phone out again, looking closer at the time.

“Shit,” Eddie swears, climbing into his truck.

If he speeds a little more than usual, he thinks as he pulls onto the freeway, he’ll just about make it on time.

That hope lasts about two minutes, before he’s forced to come to a dead stop.

He reaches for his phone, then freezes. Normally, he would call Buck. Normally, he wouldn’t even hesitate. But now?

He puts the phone to his ear, his heart beating louder than the sound of the car next to him honking.

The man in the car in front of his gets out to flip the honking car off just as Buck picks up the phone.

Eddie, instead of the thousand things he means to say, mutters, “Shit.”

“You okay?” Buck asks, sounding genuine but half-asleep. The familiarity of it calms Eddie.

“Yeah,” he says. “I was running some errands and I got caught behind a pileup on the freeway. I’m already late to get Chris, is there anyway you could—“

“I’ve got him.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, no sense of awkwardness.

Eddie is grateful for that, at least. “Just bring him to my abuela’s. Thank you.”

“I’d never miss an opportunity to hang out with my best friend,” Buck says, this time letting the awkwardness seep in. 

Eddie tries not to think too hard about that, tries not to be jealous of his best friend referring to his son as his best friend. It‘s stupid to even have to think about it.

“Well, thank you,” he says, swearing. “I might be awhile.”

Buck says nothing, then hangs up.

Eddie swears again, then slams a hand down on the car horn, causing the man in front of him to switch to flipping him off.

He tries not to scream.

...

Buck’s Jeep is still in the driveway by the time Eddie finally makes it back to his abuela’s house. He drives around the block once, just in case Buck is just dropping him off and then leaving, but the Jeep is still there.

Eddie parks, sitting and staring at the house for a long minute before finally getting up. He shuts the car door, slamming it much harder than he probably has to.

Chris makes it easier, talking about his sleepover, so Eddie doesn’t even have to think about Buck for a moment. But then he looks up, and Buck is looking back at him, and their eyes meet.

“Can we talk?” Eddie almost says, but doesn’t. “Are we okay? Why are you still here? Why are we doing this?” He bites his tongue.

Buck looks away, and that is that.

...

“So, what’d the punching bag do to you?” Chimney asks, getting his things from his locker.

“Loud mouth,” Eddie says. “Had to teach it a lesson.”

Chimney chuckles. “A lot of lessons today.”

Eddie slams his locker.

“What’s really going on?” Chimney asks. “You’ve both been acting weird today.”

Eddie’s heart stops and for a moment he forgets to respond. “Both?”

“Yeah, you and Buck.” Chimney checks his phone. “Are you trying to tell me that’s unrelated to your vengeance against our punching bag?”

“I...” Eddie stands. “I’ve got to go. Chris... I... dinner.”

Chimney looks up from his phone, but doesn’t think of a response quickly enough for Eddie to hear it.

He tells himself it’s stupid, that he should just go home, but despite every instinct screaming at him, he ends up outside Buck’s apartment.

He raises a hand to the door and knocks, but no answer comes.

For a solid minute, Eddie thinks he’s being ignored, but then he hears footsteps down the hall and has to resist a laugh.

He beat Buck home.

...

“This is nice,” Buck says.

He’s not referring to the restaurant, Eddie is sure of that much.

“It is.” He nods. “I’m glad you came.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, as if he’s going to say something more. He doesn’t.

Eddie takes his hand. “Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

“Hey, I could’ve called you at any time.” He shakes his head. “It’s not just on you.”

Buck looks about to argue but Eddie squeezes his hand and stops him.

“I was afraid,” Eddie says. “I can’t lose anyone else. No matter what happens with this, you’re my best friend and I can imagine life without you.”

“Me either,” Buck says.

Eddie doesn’t intend to kiss him, but one moment he’s opening his mouth to speak and the next he’s leaning across the table, their lips locked together.

Buck pulls away, flags the waiter to get their bill.

They don’t do much more talking that night.


End file.
